


After the Races

by very trustworthy rodent (hypocrite_lecteur)



Category: My Little Pony: Equestria Girls
Genre: Americana, Angst, Dark, F/F, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-26
Updated: 2019-01-26
Packaged: 2019-09-28 13:32:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,482
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17183936
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hypocrite_lecteur/pseuds/very%20trustworthy%20rodent
Summary: It's been a long time since Adagio Dazzle lost her powers but she never lost her drive. In a small town far away from Canterlot High, she and her onetime rival Trixie share an apartment and make a tough living together off odd jobs, street racing, and Trixie's magic act. She hasn't thought about the other Dazzlings for years, but one summer night, Aria Blaze turns up on their doorstep with shocking news.





	After the Races

**Author's Note:**

> Written in 2015, posted to FiMFiction. Basically a product of my rampant Ameriphilia. A little piece about independence and self-discovery.

The races were over but the night was still young and hot. The cars rolled into the lot outside Holly’s bar where partners, sponsors, and spectators stood swapping money. There was a warm breeze and it looked like most of the kids out there were itching for some more action. Trixie stuffed the bills into her purse and ran up to the yellow Fox Mustang that had taken the race. The door opened and a woman stepped out, lean and confident in suede boots and a leather jacket. She fluffed up her hair with a grin as she saw Trixie approach.

A skinny kid called out to the driver, “Nice run tonight, sweetie, but you’re toast next time.”

“I’d like to see you try, little boy.” Adagio Dazzle smiled and stretched out her arms with a crack.

The kid chuckled and pulled his jacket tighter around himself. “Don’t worry now, you sure will.”

“Hey there,” said Trixie. “That little maggot is Don, right? With the F-body? Want me to teach him a lesson?”

“Nah, he’s alright,” said Adagio. “Adams promised us a hundred and fifty bucks for this one, yeah?”

Trixie patted her purse. “Right here. His guy is just back there if you wanna negotiate anything else.”

Adagio smirked and high-fived Trixie. “No business right now. Let’s break here and then head home.”

Holly’s was the preferred late night destination for most of the racers and rejects in Linden. Trixie liked its smoky ambiance. Adagio was more ambivalent. It was low-lit with yellowed classic rock memorabilia tacked up on the walls and dusty red furniture. Who Holly was, Adagio didn’t know. The guy behind the bar, a short man with startled eyes and a white-speckled beard, was always there, and his name was CJ. Adagio gave him a nod as they walked in. Trixie went up to order as the other racers came through in a shifty, murmuring group and Adagio took a seat.

“Yo, Adagio, good race.”

“You know, Adagio, you race real well. D’ya wanna get a drink with me sometime?”

“Maybe you think you’re pretty hot now, but I’m gonna be there when your lucky streak ends, honey.”

Adagio allowed each of them a few terse words and tapped her fingers on the table. A singer on the radio was howling about finding one face that ain’t looking through him over a rousing piano line. That’s a tough one, thought Adagio. The other racers were shouting at each other just across the room; Adagio watched their insecure posturing with some amusement. Presently, Trixie returned with a whiskey for herself and a Coke for her companion. Adagio used to wonder if Trixie’s drinking was an affectation but decided it was actually sweeter if it were.

The street racing had started for Adagio just after she left high school. Cars were always her favorite of human inventions. Aria had made fun of her when she started. Polishing up that fetish automobile again, she’d say. Why don’t you spend some time trying to get us back to Equestria instead of wasting time on stupid human things, she’d ask. When that didn’t shame her she’d just say the worst thing she could think of: Adagio, you’ve become too much like _them_. It wasn’t the only thing that made Adagio leave but it sure didn’t help.

“Nice job tonight, Adagio,” said the guy from Adams as he walked past their table. “You earned that one.”

Adagio raised her glass and grinned.

“I’ll collect from the others tomorrow,” said Trixie. “You did great out there.”

“I sure did.”

They smiled at each other and clinked their glasses. Trixie took a drink and scrunched up her face. Adagio leaned back and closed her eyes as the soda slipped down her throat. Even now, she still marvelled at how good human food and drink tasted.

“Why don’t you talk more to the others?” asked Trixie.

“Why don’t you?”

“‘Cause you don’t, I guess.” Trixie gave a cheeky shrug, her hair bouncing.

“I guess I could,” said Adagio, “but not tonight. I’m tired.” She lowered her voice and steadied her soft gaze on Trixie. “Tonight, I’m going straight home and straight to bed.”

“Well, that’s definitely possible.” Trixie touched Adagio hand lightly, stroking her thumb over the leather of her fingerless gloves. “Drink up.”

Adagio did.

Tomorrow Trixie had a show booked at the Lioness Lounge, a pseudo-sophisticated joint in the center of Linden that paid better than most places in town. On the ride back Trixie told Adagio about how the officious manager of the place had once again picked apart her act to ensure there was no “questionable content”—what she meant remained to mystery to Trixie. Adagio didn’t have much to say but smiled as she steered through the streets—quiet, as they always were here at night. Adagio liked that. It was like driving through another world, pristine in golden streetlights, a neat grid that was nonlinear yet ceaselessly moving.

Trixie had been an unlikely friend to Adagio in the aftermath of their confrontation with the Equestrian and her little posse. Back then, she had been a relief from Adagio’s own friends: Aria, who had become sullen and touchy, and Sonata, who refused to leave the house. Like Adagio, Trixie was a performer at heart, bright and independent. Adagio told her everything—and found herself surprised at how easy it was to open up. Adagio dated a few guys in her last year at Canterlot High, but after she and Trixie had moved in together, they slipped almost unconsciously into romance. With the sirens’ human forms came human desires, and Adagio found that hers were quite flexible.

The Mustang pulled up to their apartment and the couple went in. It was a humble place on the third floor but it was home. Adagio grabbed some leftover pizza from the fridge and flopped down belly-first on their musty couch. The little sitting room was decorated with Adagio’s posters of vintage cars and musicians. That nesting instinct wasn’t natural to her at first, but she liked it. Out on the seas of Equestria, she didn’t give a damn where she slept. Much like Aria, she used to think it was pathetic how humans got attached to their homes and prettied them up with stupid posters and ornaments. Somewhere down the road, that changed. She got so excited about decorating that Trixie let her choose practically everything in the room.

Trixie walked past the couch, running her fingers through Adagio’s voluminous hair, and murmured that she’d be in the bedroom. Adagio hummed approvingly as she chewed. The door closed and she rolled onto her back with her head propped up against the armrest.

She and Trixie spent most of what they had setting themselves up here. Adagio’s first job in Linden was at a Texaco gas station; she talked her way into a career as an auto mechanic a year later after taking an online course. It wasn’t glamorous, but she was working with what she loved. Trixie shifted from job to job—right now she was working with a temp agency part-time, but she pulled most of her money from her magic show. She’d become quite well-known locally, and it helped she wasn’t averse to playing kids’ birthdays. It got them by alright, and Adagio was content. But it was racing that really brought heat to her life—that and Trixie.

She polished off the pizza and headed into the bedroom. It was still kind of spartan, but they had some framed photos of themselves sitting on the bedside table and the dresser—Adagio by her car with sunglasses wrapped round her grinning face, fingers configured in the form of a dainty gun, the index pointed at the camera, Trixie performing at the Linden Playhouse, the local theater. The flesh-and-blood Trixie had changed into a nightgown and was smiling at her from the edge of the bed.

Adagio returned the gesture teasingly and walked over to straddle Trixie’s legs. Her partner reacted by grabbing her at the waist and pulling her closer. Adagio ran a hand over the waves of Trixie’s hair and shoved her down, bringing their faces close. She studied Trixie’s breathless expression hungrily and leaned in, slyly slipping her hands into her nightgown as she did so.

_Ding-dong_

“Ah, no way!” Adagio moaned, breaking the kiss. “Who the fuck is here at this time? I swear, if it’s some two-bit nobody wanting a piece of me, I’ll punch him.”

“Who know?” Trixie smiled sardonically. “Maybe they’re here to see me. I’ll still be here when you come back.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Adagio rolled off the bed and trudged out. The lights were off. She stumbled through the lounge, whacked her knee, swore at the couch, and opened the door.

“Adagio.”

Adagio blinked.

“Aria?”

Her old friend was unassuming in sweatpants, flip-flops, and a cream shirt, her hair down and messy. There was an unfamiliar car on the street, a beat-up VW Rabbit. Adagio breathed unsteady.

“Can I talk to you?” asked Aria.

Possibilities spiralled around Adagio’s head. “Yeah,” she said. “Okay. How did you find me?”

Aria’s lips curled up in a tight smirk. “You’re pretty well-known around here if you talk to the right people. So is Trixie.”

“I guess we are, huh.” Adagio stepped back. “Come in, then.”

Aria stepped inside. Adagio snapped a lamp on and watched Aria carefully as she scanned the room, but her dull face revealed nothing.

“Still doing the racing thing.”

“Yep.”

“What’s that one called?” She pointed at a poster.

“‘69 Camaro.”

Aria pursed her lips and nodded. Trixie’s head appeared in the bedroom door. “Hey, who—oh. Aria?”

With the impetuous scowl of an animal heckled to anger, Aria narrowed her eyes at Trixie. “Trixie. You two are still best buddies, then.”

“Well, the truth is that, actually…” Adagio tried to avoid eye contact as she stumbled over the confession. “Well, we’re together.” Trixie stepped into the sitting room.

“Together? I thought you liked men.”

“I like both,” said Adagio. “Take a seat,” she added, taking a place on the couch herself.

Aria took the seat opposite her. “I can’t say I’m surprised. But I still don’t why you’d want to—be with a human.”

“Human as you,” said Adagio.

“I’m not supposed to be human. I don’t want human desires. They make me sick.”

Quiet descended. Adagio crossed her legs and leaned back, circling her foot in regular motions as she waited for Aria to say something. Trixie came forward to stand behind her, but Aria was silent as stone.

“So,” said Adagio, “what did you want to tell me?”

Aria looked away, hair falling over her face. “Sweet Celestia, where to start?”

Adagio didn’t flinch at the Equestrian oath. She felt Trixie’s hand on her shoulder. There was no way she could ignore the question—the imperative—that burned like holy law in her mind. She drew in a cold breath and asked, “Aria, where’s Sonata?”

Now Aria’s hawkish gaze cut back to Adagio. She was about to speak when her gaze was diverted by Trixie. “The human goes back in the bedroom.”

“No.”

Aria crossed her arms. “I’m not talking to you about our private business with that standing there.”

Adagio glared at her with well-cultivated regal distaste. “Fuck you, Aria.” Aria just rolled her eyes.

“Whatever,” said Trixie. “I doubt I need to hear anything you have to say, anyway.” She bent down and laid a kiss on Adagio’s head. “Call me if you need me.”

When the door closed, Aria spoke again. “Sonata’s gone.”

Adagio inclined her body forwards again and rested her elbows on her knees. “Gone? What do you mean, gone?”

“She left, okay? She’s probably…”

“When? Do you know where she went?”

“No.” Aria's lips drew tight. “It was like a year ago now.”

“A _year_? Why didn’t you contact me earlier?”

“Why should I have told you?” Aria looked at Adagio blankly and Adagio’s hands balled into fists.

“How can you ask that? How did think I would react?”

Aria sat tensely for a few moments with her hands pressed into the couch cushion before she responded. “Adagio, she might have killed herself.”

* * *

At the time of the split, Adagio thought things had been improving in the Dazzling house. She was wrong. Their comfortable centuries-long union had been forcibly and irreparably fractured by the loss of their magic. With their sirenic powers shattered—quite literally—by mysterious Equestrian interlopers, their formal status as ordinary teenage girls ceased to be a disguise and became an unpleasant and frequently humiliating reality. If the ramifications of the Dazzlings’ transformation were unclear at first, it didn’t take long for them to collide with their new limitations. What was once steel was now flesh, bracing for impact against a jagged cliff. Before, their participation in student life was minimal and their powers of suggestion kept human authorities at arm’s length. Now even the teachers of Equestria High  were imposing figures—bigger, stronger, and wielding an authority that the Dazzlings had no choice but to submit to. Just two days after the Battle of the Bands, Aria was scolded for lagging behind in her calculus classes and earned a detention for her snarky retort. She didn’t show, so her punishment was extended to a full week. At Adagio’s insistence, Aria suffered through it, shame-faced and shell-shocked as Mrs. Huette’s owlish eyes watched her wrap her head around differential equations. They were not sirens; they were teenagers—humbled, hormonal, and a long way from happiness.

Even Adagio, the most adaptable of the three, found the experience bewildering. Their disastrous performance at the Battle of the Bands lost them whatever social foothold their manipulations had earned them at the school, and Adagio’s unusual dress and sharp tongue gave the crueler elements of the student body ample excuse to target her. Pushed up against the girls’ locker room wall by Mara Baumgartner, struggling pathetically as the stronger girl reaffirmed Adagio’s weakness, called her frizzy-haired freak, slut, bitch, close enough for Adagio to choke on the smell of her sweat—there was nothing she could think of in those moments except her own submission to the human hierarchy imposed on her. Her life of freedom in the seas of Equestria seemed like a half-remembered dream that slipped unrelentingly further into dark fog the more her waking mind tried to hold onto it. She would never admit it to Aria, but her experiences gave her a new respect for humans over time.

The last conversation Adagio had with Aria Blaze was during the summer after their high school graduation. She had her Mustang already, though it was built pretty different back then. Aria hated it almost as much as she hated Trixie. Sonata still rarely left the house but she was talking more. It had been a tough couple of years, but at the time, Adagio thought things might have been looking up for her lifelong friends. When Sonata went quiet, it had been a shock like nothing else. Practically overnight, she decayed into a doll-like silence, opaque and impenetrable in her room. She responded to Adagio’s attempts to communicate by turning away or averting her gaze to the edge of the bed. Aria had no idea how to deal with it—so she pretended that Sonata didn’t exist. It couldn’t last forever though. By the time Adagio received her high school diploma, Sonata was smiling again. She even attended the ceremony.

Such was her relief at seeing Sonata more like herself that Adagio assumed that normalcy was finally returning. Later, she would wonder if she’d neglected Aria’s sadness. It sure wasn’t an obvious kind of sadness—it never way with Aria—but she was pricklier than ever. Adagio spent the summer after their graduation working the local diner by day and street racing by night. After a couple months, she asked Aria if she could take up some work to supplement their income. Aria grunted a refusal.

“Come on, Aria. Just do it. We’ll be able to live better.”

But Aria didn’t want to live better. She never had. She gave Adagio the same line she always had: while she was out there with humans, she had been trying to find out how they could regain their powers and get back to Equestria. This time was one time too many for Adagio.

“Listen to me now,” she said. “You better get to grips with the reality of our lives here. You wanna get back to Equestria? Great. But we don’t have any way of doing that. We have to make it through this world our own way. Stop fantasizing and start working on something real.”

“Like your stupid car? It’s so pointless.” Aria rolled over on the couch. “You’re the worst.”

Adagio tried to reason with her but Aria stuck resolutely to monosyllabic responses for the rest of the evening. It was unpleasant but not unexpected. As she had for the past few years, Adagio did her best to grin and bear it. The rising conflict seemed inevitable in retrospect. Adagio wanted to improve their financial situation and raise their standard of living. Aria wanted to browse occult websites for esoteric solutions to their mortality. It took a summer of uncomfortable silence between them for Adagio to snap.

“You pretend that you’re the one really looking out for our interests but you’re not,” she said to Aria, who slumped languidly in her chair. “Have you even said more than five words together to Sonata in the last month?”

Aria only narrowed her eyes at Adagio. Adagio wondered if she’d gone too far.

“It’s like you wanna stay a dumb human,” Aria said at length. “It’s like you still think you’re something extraordinary. ‘Cause you’re not, you know. You’re just an ordinary human girl. Do you wanna be ordinary?”

Adagio slammed her fist into the doorframe with a thud. “You know what?” she said. “You _are_ right. I’m an ordinary girl, and so are you. We have no reason to hang around here hating each other. We’re not sirens anymore. We’re not partners-in-crime. Frankly, it’s been months since I could find a good reason to live in the same house as you, paying for your meals.”

Aria’s eyebrows rose and she stood up. “So what? What do you mean?”

“Why should I stay here? I’m sick and tired of you leeching off me. Why should I stay?”

Aria couldn’t answer.

She packed a bag the same night. She was about to knock on Sonata’s bedroom door but she couldn’t bring herself to. Rummaging under her bed, she pulled out a shoebox of her savings and wrote “For Sonata” on it. She left the box at her door and asked Aria to tell her that she’d be at Trixie’s house if she wanted to find her. Aria said she would. Then she said that Adagio wouldn’t be welcome back in the Dazzling house if she left. Adagio nodded, shut the door, and stepped out into the night.

On Trixie’s doorstep she told her that she’d left Aria and Sonata and she needed a place to sleep. Trixie offered help immediately. She stayed there for two weeks but Sonata never came. Adagio wasn’t sure if Aria had told her where she went or if she’d lied. She could believe both. With nothing to lose, she asked Trixie to ride with her when she skipped town. Up to that point, the plan had been to hang around Aria and Sonata until they found a way back to Equestria, but that didn’t seem so likely anymore. One thing was for sure: whatever she was looking for wasn’t here, and she didn’t want to ride out there alone. Trixie gave her a cheeky half-smile and said yes.

And so they rode.

* * *

 Adagio was stone-faced. The seconds drifted by like ghosts through the room. Aria started to explain in more detail. She talked and talked about how the house was foreclosed two years ago, how they lived up in the city in a shitty apartment, how soon enough they couldn’t afford that either and lived out of their car—until one day, Sonata just left. Adagio listened just enough to pick up the threads.

“She was never the same after you left, but I thought she was getting better just before she vanished. She seemed kinda happy. I don’t know. I never understood Sonata.”

The blunt words dropped like lead in Adagio’s gut. In the low light, Aria’s face was shadowed and impassive. Adagio wanted to call out for Trixie but she couldn’t. Aria had finally succeeded in making her ashamed of her actions, and maybe she was right to.

“I reported her missing. It took them weeks to get anything but they told me a girl matching her description hitchhiked out to the cliffs. There was never a body found but they warned me to expect the worst. So I’m telling you the same.”

Adagio suddenly felt like screaming. She had shepherded these two numbskulls through the seas of Equestria for centuries. She left them alone for a few years in a safe, comfortable house and this is what happened? She hadn’t felt so impotent in years. Here they were, two mortal animals sweating out their dying hearts in a concrete box. It shouldn’t have been Sonata. It couldn’t have been.

“Why did you only tell me now?”

“I was getting to that.” Aria regarded Adagio coldly. “I didn’t come here to tell you about Sonata. You just asked, remember?”

Adagio thought that probably made Aria’s long silence all the worse but not wanting to argue, she nodded and asked Aria to tell her what she was here for. She had a feeling about what it would be before Aria even said anything.

“I found another Equestrian—a unicorn sorcerer banished here by Celestia,” said Aria. “He thinks he can get back to Equestria but he’s afraid that he would just get banished again. So he wants us to regain our powers and help him get revenge.”

“Even if he isn’t just a bullshitter, those are some pretty heavy strings attached.”

Aria grimaced. “I don’t care. I’ll just ditch him when he’s outlived his usefulness.”

“That would seem the obvious solution.” Adagio kicked off her boots and pulled up her legs to sit Indian-style.

“So, you’re interested?”

“I don’t know, Aria. I’m not gonna trust this stranger right off the bat. Besides—I don’t wanna leave Trixie right now.”

Aria tsked at her. “You wanna stay with these apes? You wanna stay mortal? Be my guest. But you should be thanking me for trying to include you.”

“You think _I_ should thank _you_?” Adagio laughed bitterly. “After what you just told me about Sonata? Are you kidding?”

Aria drew herself up irritably. “Sonata was _your_  fault. She always talked to you. I couldn’t do anything.”

“Don’t blame me for your negligence.”

The little clock on the coffee table ticked on wearily as the pair stared at one another. Adagio remained steely under Aria’s scornful gaze.

“I used to idolize you, you know,” said Aria. “You always organized us. You always had the plan that would get us through. Then you stopped caring about getting back home.”

Adagio’s hands were shaking and voice was low and venomous. “That’s the stupidest thing you’ve said. I just realized that being stuck here was no excuse to stop living. Maybe you should learn that lesson. Maybe Sonata wouldn’t have left you too.”

Aria growled and rolled her eyes. She stood. “I’m going to go sleep in the car. You think about my offer. See if I care if you accept or not.”

“No. Sleep on the couch. I’m not that petty.” Adagio spoke through gritted teeth. “But you better not insult Trixie again.”

“Whatever.”

They exchanged curt good nights and Adagio left Aria to her glum reverie. Trixie was sitting up in bed, watching for Adagio’s return. Unsure of even how to deal with Aria’s news—never mind explain it to Trixie—Adagio forced a smile as she entered.

“So what did she want?”

“Can it wait ‘til tomorrow? I don’t have work and I hate dragging up the past enough without doing it at this hour.”

“You’re just going to make me curious now.” Trixie crossed her arms huffily. Adagio sauntered over to the bedside and weaved her fingers into Trixie’s hair.

“Tough luck, baby.”

* * *

Adagio balanced the tray carefully on her arm and knocked. Five seconds. Then ten. There was no response.

“Sonata?”

“Hng?”

This muffled syllable, quiet and uncertain as it was, relaxed Adagio’s concerned brow. She opened the door. Sonata’s room was always the most overstuffed in the house; it had only become messier lately. Clothes hung carelessly from the desk, the chair, the bed, and school books were spread out in an almost orderly line across the floor. Adagio couldn’t see Sonata. Then she noticed the shape disturbing the sheets, a lithe outline that could only be her.

“Sonata,” she said. “I brought you some curry.”

Sonata’s head poked out. She looked blearily at the tray of steaming food and gave Adagio a fragile smile.

“Thank you.”

“You’ve got a crazy bedhead,” said Adagio, returning the smile. “Sit up so you can eat this.”

Sonata complied, propping up her pillow behind her. Blushing, she touched her hair lightly as Adagio laid down the food. “It doesn’t look too bad, does it?”

“It looks like a bird’s nest,” said Adagio. “You should shower.” She glanced out the window. It was already dark and the streetlights colored the road a flickering, decayed amber. She moved to pull the curtains shut.

“Meanie,” said Sonata.

Adagio ruffled her friend’s hair as she began to tuck into the curry.

“Mmm! Good.”

“Course it is,” said Adagio. After a moment’s pause, she asked, “So, how are you feeling today?”

Sonata put down her fork and breathed in noisily. “I just—I feel weird. Even when I put my fingers in my ears I can hear my heart beating. I hate it.”

Adagio didn’t know what to say so she stroked Sonata’s hair.

“I don’t know how you and Aria handle it.”

Adagio chuckled. “Oh, believe me, Aria is not handling it. She’s sulkier than she’s ever been and won’t talk about it.”

“Really?” Sonata spoke through a big mouthful of curry. “I should try and ge’ out o’ my room and shay hi to her.”

Adagio shook her head emphatically. “She could come see you if she wanted. You can stay up here as long as you need. I’ll look after you.”

“Oh,” said Sonata, “thanks.” She bit her lip. “So can you stay here a little while?”

“Of course. That was the plan.”

“So can you…?” Sonata shifted slightly and patted the bed.

Adagio rolled her eyes and sat down next to her, careful that her hair didn’t find its way to the curry. Sonata’s smile looked satisfied.

“I do kinda like how warm my body feels all the time. And I feel it on you too.” Sonata shuffled up to Adagio.

“That’s the human metabolism for you. Much faster than a siren’s.”

“Faster, huh…” Sonata stopped eating for a second and stared at her hands.

Neither of them spoke for some time. In the dusty lamplight, with her body curled up around the tray in the corner, Sonata looked like she was receding into the darkness. Adagio put an arm around her and squeezed tight.

It had been a week since the Battle of the Bands ended and left the former sirens mortal. Aria had continued to behave as though nothing had changed and refused to discuss their predicament. Sonata refused to talk outright. Adagio had taken several long drives, usually to the coast, to find some respite from the tension at home. The house was always dark when she got back. On the third night she walked into Sonata’s room uninvited and sat with her until she started to talk. If Aria had any opinions of this development, she didn’t let them be known.

“Adagio?” Sonata whispered.

“Yeah?”

“I don’t wanna die.”

“Me neither,” said Adagio. “I don’t think anyone does.”

“So what are we gonna do?”

“For now?” Adagio leaned her head back against the bed frame and stared at the shadows on the ceiling. “Keep on living, I guess.”

“And then what?” Sonata looked pleadingly at Adagio.

Adagio swallowed slowly and felt a twinge in her gut. “Live some more, maybe. What else can you do when you’re alive?”

“I don’t know,” said Sonata weakly. “I’ve never thought about it before.” She sighed and finished off the last mouthful of curry.

“Hey, you’ve got curry around your mouth.” Adagio rubbed at Sonata’s face and she giggled.

“Thanks.”

“Maybe this isn’t the greatest life we could have,” said Adagio, “but it’s not so bad. I’m stuck with you two morons and I’m doing okay.”

Sonata hugged Adagio tight enough to make her squeak involuntarily. “Thanks, Adagio.”

“For calling you a moron? You’re a sucker for punishment.”

“For—helping me like this.”

Adagio stared at the peeling wallpaper on the far side of the room and shivered. Sonata yawned, her head vibrating against Adagio’s shoulder. A sweet, raspberry scent emanated from her hair and Adagio breathed in warmly. Outside a police siren wailed and the cherry tree in their yard bristled and shook. The quiet afterwards lasted longer.

* * *

“Why don’t I take you down to JD’s Diner for breakfast? It’s the best place around here.”

Aria rubbed her eyes and nodded. The clock read half past nine. Adagio was standing in the bedroom doorway wrapped in a towel and her hair soaking wet.

“The bathroom’s free if you want to shower. Looks like you need it.”

Aria said she was going to grab some other clothes from her car first. Adagio gave her the thumbs-up and went back into the bedroom to dry her hair. Knowing that it take about half an hour for her to finish, Aria lay back and ran a hand across her own grimy head. It would be a long day for both of them.

Sleep had brought no answers to Adagio. While their difficult guest showered and dressed herself, she and Trixie moved to the sitting room and Adagio told her about Sonata’s disappearance.

“Wow. I’m sorry, Dagi.”

“Yeah, well, there’s nothing you or I could’ve done,” said Adagio gruffly, looking away from Trixie.

“Don’t be stupid and start blaming yourself or anything.”

“Didn’t you hear what I just said?” Adagio took Trixie’s hand and stared down at her fingers, the prettied-up nails of a performer. “I couldn’t have done anything. And I don’t think she’s dead.”

“You don’t?”

“Sonata wouldn’t have committed suicide. I knew Sonata. That’s not Sonata.”

Adagio would have liked Trixie to come along but she knew Aria wouldn’t have it. Luckily, Trixie had no desire to waste her day with Aria either. She asked Adagio to get some groceries as Aria inspected the walls. With a nod to her girlfriend, Adagio snapped her fingers at Aria and they left.

It was a short drive. Aria didn’t offer much in the way of conversation, and Adagio was not particularly inclined to listen to her anyway, especially not after she gave the car a very deliberate once-over—and there was the disapproving gleam in her eyes, the eyebrow jerked up dismissively. Same old Aria, thought Adagio. With her arms crossed and her focus fixed on the world moving by outside, she invited no hospitality.

The diner wasn’t too busy when they arrived. The bar was decorated gaudily with red and yellow bars horizontally intermixed across its span. The seats with their plastic-coated pink cushions and old-fashioned tables tucked into little booths always made Adagio smile. She glanced at Aria, but her perpetual pout betrayed no emotion towards the place. They sat down and Adagio ordered coffee and a breakfast of eggs Benedict for the both of them.

“So what can you tell me about this wizard guy? Personal information, I mean.”

“He works as an accountant right now,” said Aria. “He doesn’t have a lot of attachments to the human world outside of his work, but he lives back in our old town. I sensed he was Equestrian and confronted him on a hunch. Turns out there’s some vestige of our magic left after all.”

Adagio crossed her arms. “I haven’t noticed. I did retrain myself to sing, but I didn’t get any of the perks back with it.”

“Well, I doubt you were trying super hard.”

Adagio ignored Aria’s comment and asked, “Do you know how he wants to get us back to Equestria?”

“Equestrian magic. It still works here, kinda. He doesn’t have a horn but rituals should still work. You remember how those Equestrians used magic on us? He needs accomplices though.”

“Why doesn’t he just find some humans?”

Aria scowled. “I told you he doesn’t have a lot of attachments.”

Adagio nearly pointed out that hunting for human thrill-seekers and occultists online would’ve been easy, but held off on arguing. Their coffees arrived. Aria watched Adagio pour the milk.

“I think I’ll pass on your offer.”

Aria leaned back and crossed her arms. “What a surprise. So you’d rather stay here?”

“Yeah, I would.” Adagio took a long drink. “What does Equestria have that this world doesn’t? It’s not like we’d get our powers back just by returning.”

“What does it have? It’s our home!”

“Oh yeah, it was great,” said Adagio with a bitter laugh. “I loved how everypony thought we were pure evil and how their leaders exiled us for, you know, _feeding_. Sorry, Aria, but I’d rather live with people that don’t hate my guts.”

Aria slumped in the chair with a grunt. “But they’re not _your_ people.”

“They are now.” Adagio rubbed her thumb up and down the mug’s handle. “And besides, it’s not like it has to be this way. You made this choice. I always wanted you and Sonata in my life.”

“Yeah, whatever.”

They were quiet for some time. Adagio looked into her coffee and listened absently to the voice of the man across from their table, who was talking business on a cell phone, loudly. She recognized him as a regular and half-smiled. Their food arrived, and they ate without speaking. Aria nodded approvingly at the flavor.

Adagio couldn’t recall a time when she hadn’t butted heads with Aria, but she no longer felt the inclination to argue. It appeared this was mutual; Aria was offering no more sarcastic rebukes or bitter elaborations. Since their transformation, Adagio had felt a strange discomfort around Aria, like she was as much a stranger as she was a friend, no matter how long she spent with her. She was always so cold, so fixed in her fuming, sulky world.

The sirens were born in the seas that roared and raged west of Equestria, in a confusion of rain and darkness. Some said they came from the old pegasi tribes who lived in western Equestria, whose customs dictated that ponies unable to fly should be cast off the cliffs to the foaming rocks below. It was written in the old records that the dark feelings of those sacrificed coalesced into being and returned to terrorize ponykind. The sirens themselves had always considered themselves amoral, and took neither pain nor pleasure in the hurt they caused. They were driven at the heart by a simple love of food, shelter, and good company, and were untroubled by the myths that they inspired. At least, that was how Adagio chose to see it. For her and Sonata, she still believed that was the case.

In those days Aria had been more cheerful—to the best of Adagio’s knowledge, at least. Of the sirens, she took best to their life of predation. She still grouched and groaned from time to time, but in general remained the cynical center of the trio, less flighty than Sonata and less ambitious than Adagio. It was not that Aria was sadistic; Adagio would better describe her as passionless and linear-minded, suited to a mercenary life of hunting. She cared only for her vanished stability. Her hard-knotted steadiness had already begun to unravel with the loss of their home, and that unravelling was accelerated since they became human. Aria’s appearance was not a tough front concealing some hidden, deeper kindness. It was her true character in itself. She had imprisoned herself so thoroughly in her old way of thinking that Adagio could hold no grudge against her.

Soon, breakfast was over. “Well, that’s it, I guess,” Aria said, and so it was.

Adagio dropped Aria off at her apartment and drove to the convenience store. Though her mind was made up on the matter of Aria, Sonata’s disappearance still troubled her in her solitude. She felt as though she was glancing away from a deep truth by carrying on her life as normal, ignoring the somber reality that she had not done enough for Sonata. The humidity clung to her cruelly; even the sticky steering wheel was impertinent, rubbing like sandpaper against her sweating hands. Her slender fingers curled ever more tightly around the leather as she moved into the parking lot.

Groceries. She had to stay on target. That was how she always kept her head above water. The air-conditioned temple of the convenience store was as good a place to find solace as any right now. Tugging at her blouse to cool off, Adagio locked the car and headed inside.

When the sirens had first found themselves in the human world, an irrational fear had taken hold of Adagio, a fear that her history was visible to all the mortals she came into contact with—her inhuman soul shining through her skin. It was not out of vanity that she wanted their identities to remain secret. They had been physically separated from their old powers, the gems around their necks their only lifelines to Equestria. If the people of this world realized that and took the gems from them, they would be as helpless as—well, as helpless as they were now. Now that Aria had returned and started talking about their past, Adagio’s old fears swirled up in her heart again as she passed by the other shoppers. On either side, the bright freezers bore down on her in unseen scrutiny. She watched a middle-aged woman picking out frozen vegetables. Had she a right to be here? She had lived in the human world longer than she had lived in Equestria. If she weren’t a part of it now, she never would be. But no, she couldn’t be bitter. She had to fight the bitterness or it would obliterate her.

And then Sonata. Sonata, who was always the sweetest of their bitter triad. Sonata was gone to the cold crush of the human world, the weekdays and weekends, the hierarchies and headaches, the loss and loneliness. Adagio gazed listlessly at the filled-up shelves, the vividly colored packaging under electric lights, the deep vibrating reds and blues and yellows and pinks. There was something in human life that threatened even Adagio’s poise with its black insensitivity, its careless sentimentality. But then, she realized, it was in those moments that she truly knew that she belonged here, because unlike Aria, she didn’t assuage her unhappiness with thoughts of escape. No, it was in human companionship that she found an antidote to coldness. But Sonata could not be equipped for that coldness, and it was surely Adagio’s fault for abandoning her. How much easier life had been when they had scales! How could such soft, warm-hearted creatures create a world colder than Equestria’s darkest seas?

Adagio stepped out of the convenience store and the heat swept over her like sickness. She breathed heavily and squinted at the sparkling blacktop as the cars breezed past. Her blouse was unbuttoned down to her chest but her hair hung hot around her shoulders and she was trapped in a gelatinous web of perspiration. Her lips clung together grossly; her fingers were red and wet to the touch. She couldn’t take it.

“You fucking moron,” she whispered. “Oh, Sonata.” Her knees trembled. There was a bench a few yards down the sidewalk. Adagio dropped the grocery bags and sat down as fat tears brimmed up in her eyes.

“Fucking baby.”

She cried into her hands as quietly as she could and hoped that no one was looking at her. Ultimately, she’d failed Sonata and herself. Maybe she was right to fear that her real nature would be discovered. Maybe her being was an obliterating force, inherently destructive. Maybe she was evil not because of her birth or her powers but because her spirit was corrupt, because the soul called Adagio Dazzle was simply _bad_. She had failed Sonata because she was naturally negligent, and she had failed Aria because she was impatient and insensitive.

“Why? Why is it like this? Why am I like this?” Her raspy voice caught in her throat and she released a sob, covering her mouth in shame.

Of the three ex-sirens, Adagio was the only one who had moved past the calamity at the Battle of the Bands and found stability. She was not vanished or homeless, padding about grimy streets like an animal. Aria’s vulgar misery was not Aria’s failing. It was all down to Adagio. It was her own badness that hurt others. She cried for her badness, cried it out, willed it to go away, to let her share organically in the empathy and goodness of humankind, to be a human woman in spirit and flesh. She cried for a new seed to germinate inside her brittle shell. She wanted Sonata back, restored to her.  She wanted it, and cried achingly for it.

“Adagio?”

Her head jerked up. It was Don, the kid from the races. He was holding grocery bags of his own.

“What are you looking at?”

“Nothing,” he said. “You okay?”

“Why do you care?” Adagio wiped her eyes. “It’s my private business.”

“Hey now, I ain’t tryin’ to intrude. You just look kinda sad, is all.”

Adagio regarded him skeptically. He had wide-set eyes that sloped down at the sides in a way that reminded Adagio of a big, friendly dog.

“Sorry for snapping at you,” she said. “Thanks. I’m alright.”

“If you say so,” said Don. “And you know, if you ever wanna talk or something—”

“I have a girlfriend.”

“Oh no, I don’t mean that,” said Don hurriedly. “If you and Trixie are free, my girlfriend Sherry and I go to JD’s most Saturdays. I’m pretty sure I’ve seen you there too, so if you wanted to join us…”

Adagio drew herself up and smiled tersely at Don. “Yeah. Yeah, I’ll think about that.”

“Great.” Don slid his hands into his pockets, thumbs poking out over the leather. “It’d be good to talk outside of the races.”

“Why do you say that?” Adagio sniffed and a ran a hand over her face quickly to check for remaining wetness. “I’m your competition. Doesn’t it make you mad to see my face?”

“Does it make you mad to see mine?” Adagio shrugged, and he continued, “You’re probably one of the best racers I’ve ever seen. Truth be told, we all respect the hell out of you, Adagio. So yeah, it’d be real nice to see you and your girl someplace away from work.”

“Oh, I see.” It was another thing about human life that always surprised Adagio: her success did not necessarily breed fear and resentment in the hearts of others, as it did when she was an alien to humans and ponies alike. “I might take you up on that.”

“Anytime.” Don grinned. “Well, I hope everything works out good for you, whatever’s wrong.”

“It’s just some trouble with an old friend,” said Adagio. “I think I’ll be fine. Thanks.”

“No problem,” said Don. “If you guys come up to JD’s around 9 AM Saturday, you’ll catch us. Your call. See you round, huh?”

“Cool. See you.”

Adagio turned back to stare at her hands as Don left. It was embarrassing to be caught crying, but she felt better. She closed her eyes and raised her head to tilt it back at the relentless sun—and the sun drew out a fresh gleam of sweat across her face and neck, its stinging rays throwing off bright shapeless reflections in the glass of the shopfronts all around her, white and immaculate.

* * *

Aria left that evening.

“I don’t have anything else to say,” she said. “I hope whatever you’re doing works out for you.”

Out on the sidewalk by the apartments, Adagio gave Aria a hug and received an uncomfortable pat on the back in return. “If your plan doesn’t work out,” Adagio said, “then come see me and I’ll try and help you.”

“Yeah, I doubt that.” Aria’s sallow cheeks were pink. “But thanks.”

“Just don’t be stupid.”

“Whatever.”

As they reached the sad looking VW, Aria’s hand paused midway to the door handle. “Oh, yeah. I have something for you.” Adagio approached her as she opened the back door instead and pulled out a hoodie.

“Is that…?”

“It was Sonata’s,” said Aria. “I guess you probably want it more than me…”

Adagio took the proffered item of clothing with a grateful nod. “Are you sure you want me to have it?”

“Yeah, I mean…” Aria’s eyes were not quite focused, as though they reached something beyond Adagio. “I don’t see why not.”

Adagio held the hoodie close to her as Aria drove away. She raised it to her face and smelt it, her closed eyelids trembling. It was Sonata’s. With that scent came a resurging wave of memory that tugged at her heart, an old wind rushing through her head. Her hand, moving unconsciously, found the pocket and touched something inside.

Back in the apartment, Trixie was relaxed on the couch, carelessly toying with a deck of cards. The sitting room was eerily undisturbed; Aria had passed their home through like dust, leaving nothing but an unfamiliar aroma. She jostled one leg rhythmically, bare foot bouncing on the arm of the couch, the other tucked under her. She was staring at the hand of the clock shadowed on the wall, a thin black rod jerking in strange, fruitless motion, as if trapped.

There was trouble in Trixie’s look. Truthfully, she could hate Aria for the misery she had brought upon Adagio—she _could_  hate Aria, if Adagio didn’t yet love her old friend. She loved her spitefully and she would deny it if asked, but Adagio could never let go of things. Except, of course, for that one moment when she did, and it was Aria and Sonata she had abandoned.

For her.

Trixie dropped the cards to the rug and pressed her fingers to her brow. There was no sense in entertaining her worst fears. Adagio would be back in a few minutes and she would want comfort. Trixie took calming breaths. She had never felt estranged from Adagio—her girlfriend was slow to open up, but that was true of them both. She had always found honest love in her deeds if not in her words, and companionship in her arms. There was nothing that she had to be scared of.

When Adagio returned, she was impassive. Trixie’s eyes accused her, tried to pry out what she was thinking with gentle questions, but Adagio only smiled and asked if she wanted to come for a drive down to the coast before they went to bed. Trixie accepted.

“Do you know what Aria’s gonna do?”

Adagio shrugged as she started up the car. “We might never see her again. Or we might. It’s hard to know.”

“You’re not…” Trixie fingered the hem of her t-shirt. “You better not angry with me for wanting you to stay.”

“Don’t be stupid.”

“Good. I didn’t think you were.”

The way to the highway was slow going. Trixie flicked on the radio and the quiet was eased with the familiar sounds of some rock ballad or another. The streets were still awake, just about—every so often dark shapes would appear on the sidewalk on either side of them and accelerate past. Adagio’s eyes never left the front. Trixie thought about Aria, that surly presence in her school days, and Sonata, the invisible girl. She had never seen Sonata after she lost her powers, and now she wished it were otherwise.

They reached the on-ramp. Adagio pushed down on the clutch and felt the propulsive force shudder through her. The feeling was all she would die for. She began to smile and she felt hotter and brighter than ever. The highway tore away under her and her car rumbled with sweet vitality and she could only see the night as she pushed faster faster faster so fast she could die—yes she could _die_!—freer and faster and freer and faster so perfectly fastfast _fastFAST_ —

She smiled. Nothing could kill her smile.

At the beach she sat for a moment in the car and watched Trixie dangling her feet on the edge of the boardwalk. She reached into the glove compartment and pulled out Sonata’s hoodie. Taking out the slip of torn-off writing paper hidden in the pocket, she reviewed what she’d discovered. Then she got out.

“I found this in Sonata’s hoodie.”

Trixie took the note from Adagio’s outstretched hand.

“‘Is that a telephone number?” Trixie raised her eyebrows as Adagio sat next to her.

“Yep,” said Adagio. Trixie leaned on her shoulder and Adagio put an arm around her.

“Hers? Someone she knows?”

Adagio shrugged. “Anything’s possible.”

“So you think she’s alive?”

“I am,” said Adagio, “and so are you.”

They sat in the cool relief of the breeze and the breeze wet their eyes. It was a new moon and the sky stretched out clear and empty. The water murmured up and down the dark beach, invisible but for the shimmering reflection of streetlights behind them. Adagio inclined her head against Trixie’s and breathed in.

“I wonder if Aria knew that note was there,” said Trixie absently.

“It wouldn’t surprise me,” said Adagio. “She’s so proud. I’m sorry that I could never see the things she couldn’t say.”

Trixie patted her girlfriend’s leg. “So are you going to call that number or just sit around like an idiot?”

Adagio wondered if Sonata was hurting. She had been hurting for too long now. She took out her phone and dialed in the number. Trixie threw a pebble she had been holding out to the sea and Adagio listened to the sound of water. She pressed the call button.


End file.
